Tag: the best for our family

I must wash my hands. You must also wash your hands. Seems simple enough, right? We teach our kids how to do it and gradually over time they get better and better at it. They even start to remember to do it without being told, so I’ve heard.

It’s a funny thing how our society is so competitive. Over everything. Every. Thing. So what does this have to do with washing your hands. Funny you should ask. This seemingly simple activity has become (at least from my perspective) a competition in the ladies room. Guys, I’m sure y’all have better things to do than to critique each other’s hand-washing ability and quality.

Ladies? Come on! Does every single thing have to be a competition?

So at work, we have a rather large multi-stall women’s restroom and it’s usually got a few ladies coming and going throughout the day. No big deal…it’s a big office. But here’s the thing. No longer is hand-washing just something you do when you’re finished using the restroom.

Side bar: Let me just say a huge thank you to all who actually do wash their hands. I know it’s not required and usually the rest of us suffer at the dirty hands of those who choose to skip the ceramic basin and Dial so thank you for those who actually do wash their hands…much appreciated!

Here’s where it gets odd. The germaphobia that seems to have taken a strong hold on the women in this particular office is remarkable. We aren’t a dirty group of people, we are generally healthy and yet some ladies seem to think they are scrubbing down from a shift working with patients in a Tubuculosis ward or some yet-to-be diagnosed virus the CDC is trying to isolate.

Here’s how it usually goes:

Leave the stall and head toward an available sink

Stop first at the paper towel dispenser and grab two sets of paper towels

Lay the paper towel sets on the counter beside the sink

Get soap from the automatic hand soap dispenser

Scrub like mad

Rinse in a downward motion from the middle arm toward the finger tips (as if prepping for surgery)

Use the first paper towel set to turn off the faucet

Use the second paper towel set to dry hands

Using the second paper towel set, grab the first paper towel set and head toward the door

Use the clump of paper towels to open the door

Throw away the paper towels in the trash can by the door or hold on to them for any other subsequent doors you may encounter upon returning to your work station

Seriously? You have an immune system. For Pete’s sake, this level of cleanliness eliminates the ability of your immune system to get its exercise and when it never gets its exercise, guess what it’s doing when you accidentally let a nasty germ through the Fort Knox you try to create with this excessive shower session?

It goes even further. There are little bum papers to cover the toilet seats and there are distinctly two groups of ladies in our building. Those that use them and those that don’t. Let me reiterate that we are a clean group of people. There’s not nastiness on the toilet seats, no one forgets how to use a commode and “spills” all over the place. This isn’t a shady truck stop. And yet, some need to keep that toilet covered with paper.

Whatever.

Never mind the grossness of your own keyboard, phone or mouse. Never mind the pen you use, which may have been in someone else’s mouth while you weren’t guarding it. What about the community copier machine buttons!!?!?

I am all in favor of washing those hands. I really am. And I take advantage of the bum paper covers for the toilet when I encounter a toilet that’s gross. But seriously, I am tired of getting those “you call that washing your hands??” looks when I grab some soap, scrub, rinse, turn off the faucet and go grab a paper towel.

I get it…you turn the faucet on after you use the bathroom and before your hands are clean. But if you really want to gross yourself out, research how much of our regular everyday stuff has microscopic fecal material on it. You can thank me later.

When our first child was born, I remember looking down at her, in awe of her newness and so in love with this warm, wiggly little being. And I remember thinking that this beautiful gift from God would one day roll her eyes at me in frustration. I knew that day would come. Because she would grow and learn and develop her own opinions and thoughts about things.

And occasionally her thoughts would be in direct opposition to my thoughts. She would grow to want to be independent and the struggle between parents holding on and children wanting to let go would rage on, like a dance with all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop.

Fast forward to today. Girl child really likes to do things by herself. Not like baby girl does…spilling the cereal all over the table because she wanted to pour it herself but does not yet possess the fine motor skills to maintain accuracy when aiming for her cereal bowl. Girl child likes responsibility. She likes to do things that confirm she’s growing up. Like emptying the dishwasher herself, including the knives. She knows what’s been off limits to her until she’s old enough. And she wants to be old enough!

So, as she gains more and more independence, I wonder where I will fit in to her world. When she was fresh from God, I was completely in charge of everything for her. Now I reach into my pockets and hand over yet another thing I managed that she now can do for herself. Lord help me when she’s old enough to drive.

That’s kind of scary. Because at some point in her life, I won’t know where she is or what she’s doing. She’ll call me and check in (she better if she knows what’s good for her!). We will chat and catch up on all the stuff she’s been into. Maybe she’ll share heartbreak with me, but who knows. Maybe not. And then, she’ll hang up and go on with her life. Without me.

As we move further away from dependence, I try to remind her how family always sticks together. How we always look out for each other, no matter what. That her brother and sister are now and will forever be her closest and best friends. She will still roll her eyes every now and then but I’m trying to plant the seeds now so that later, when she needs the tree of support and faithful love and encouragement, she’ll find us all there.

You guys! You don’t know stress until you experience something so traumatic as hitching a ride in a lovely Uber with your littles only to hear “Momma…I have to go potty weely bad!” from the backseat. Um. wut?? The littlest of our littles has urgently advised she has to go and she can’t hold it. We are at the near beginning of our ride back into Washington DC from Alexandria during evening traffic. So, the seemingly forever 7 mile trek to the hotel is wrought with pleas of relief because her pee-pees are coming and she can’t hold it anymore!!!!!

At first we figure, how bad can she really have to go…I mean she went twice in the course of our dinner (completely normal activity for her- a combination of curiosity of what the bathroom looks like and maybe also actually having to go). There can’t really be THAT MUCH pee in her at this point. But then we start thinking, she’s really sticking to this ‘having to go potty’ mess. And she’s getting a little louder.

We try telling her “we’re almost there…look I can see it!” (we can’t see it AT ALL). That does not work.

We try telling her to imagine her pee is going back into his little house (a trick my grandma used on me as a kid and it usually bought us about 10 minutes). That also does not work.

Now we start really feeling the stress of the logistics of managing the situation if, in fact, she really can’t hold it any longer as she is now vocalizing quite loudly. I mean, there’s no way the Uber driver can’t hear what’s going on at this point. We are in a mini-van. A nicely appointed one with comfortable leather seats. Crap. What if this child actually pees on this guy’s car? What’s the protocol here?

Anyone who’s been to DC knows you can’t just “pull over” and “stop in” to a “shop”. Besides the double-parked issue, there’s also this: “No, pal, those restrooms are for paying customers only”. And a teary-eyed four-year-old whose pee-pees are coming doesn’t faze them at all. Those cold-hearted savages.

Nope. We have to make it to the hotel. We HAVE to make it to the hotel.

So baby girl is now crying, “I can’t make it! My pee-pees are coming!!” and she’s wiggling all over the place. I spot the car mats and see that they are the plastic kind with spill catching grooves all in them. Ok. Worst case scenario, I lift baby girl up, she pees all over herself onto the mat. We arrive at the hotel, give the Uber driver an extra $20 for his trouble while I take the mat into the bathroom and rinse it down.

While I’m mentally preparing for this scenario, my dear husband has come up with his own idea. He’s thinking of taking off his t-shirt and fashioning a diaper around baby girl so at least his shirt bears the brunt of her dilemma. Bless him.

A huge tour bus has now pulled in front of us, slowing our rate on the last leg of our seemingly endless trip. CRAP!! MOVE!! It is at this point that I know for sure that our Uber driver is in this with us as he starts maneuvering like a parent who’s kid has to pee. He weaves in and out of stupid traffic…and this is more than the efficiency that Uber drivers usually use. This guy does not want his car to be peed on. But he says nothing. He just focuses on his mission.

Finally…we round the last turn. We really CAN see the hotel. “Look baby girl! There’s our hotel! We are here!!” She’s still a crying mess. But we made it. As the driver rounds the turn in the courtyard, I’ve already unbuckled her so I can grab her and dash out of the car. Whatever happens next, I can handle.

I proclaim to the Uber driver, “we are still dry!” and he smiles at us. We thank him for this expeditiousness and I bolt to the lobby bathroom with baby girl. We make it to the bathroom, I lock the door and strip down her pants, then hoist her up on the potty. She then starts chatting about how the bathroom light turns itself on and off and did I know this? Also she can’t reach the toilet paper but that’s ok because Momma can hand her some. This is her favorite hotel ever.

Wait, what?!? GO POTTY!!!

She says, “oh yeah!” like she forgot! Then the relieving sounds of tinkling and she smiles up at me, saying, “See?? I told you I had to go!”